Her Boys
by Phx
Summary: Just a sweet little Mother's Day one-shot. Fenton, Frank and Joe... her boys...


**Her Boys**

Twenty-one year old Joe Hardy leaned forward in the hard backed chair and rubbed his gritty eyes. He sighed heavily. He hated hospitals.

Across from him in the bed, the lone occupant remained too still, and only the steady beating of the heart monitor offered comfort that he wasn't alone.

God, this sucked.

Today was Mother's Day. He was supposed to be spending it with his mom, spoiling her and reminding her that while he was now grown she was still the most important woman in his life, not by sitting at her hospital bedside praying that she'd be okay.

Down the hall, his older brother, Frank, was sitting with their father holding a very different vigil. Fenton was going to be okay. He was still a bit confused but he was strong and hadn't been on the side that had gotten hit – hit by a drunk driver last night while on their way home from a romantic dinner for two.

Joe hadn't seen the car but he knew it was bad. Totaled, a very sympathetic Con Riley had told the two distraught young men when they'd met him in Emergency. The cop admitted the brothers were very lucky not to be orphans right now.

And that thought is what shook the youngest Hardy to the very core, and what kept him vigilant by his mother's side, terrified that if he left – even for a pee break – she'd take his absence as an okay to slip away.

"You know," he admitted softly, "this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to spend Mother's Day with you."

The doctor said his mother was in a light coma and doing well, all things considered, but Joe wasn't as convinced. Laura Hardy was not only a beautiful woman, but very dynamic and full of life, not this quiet, unresponsive shell lying in front of him, so until he actually saw it for himself, Joe couldn't dare to believe.

Fenton had bruising and a concussion. Once the twenty-four mark had passed and barring any complications, Frank and Joe could take him home while Laura… Laura was a bit more messed up.

And it wasn't the extensive bruising on her right side, cracked ribs or even dislocated shoulder that kept her so quiet, it was the severe concussion and closely monitored brain edema that did so; the very knowledge of which sent chills down Joe's spine. His mother and brain injury weren't two ideas he could reconcile himself with, so for the past twelve hours, he had perched himself next to her bedside and refused to budge. Not even Frank or his lingering worry about his father could make him move, especially since he'd already seen his dad and sat with him for a bit before Joe'd been allowed to see his mother.

Fenton had recognized both him and Frank, asked about Laura and then promised Joe he'd be okay if Joe wanted to go sit with her. Even concussed the detective knew his younger son, forever his mother's son, needed to, so Joe did just that, and he'd been sitting there since.

The door opened quietly behind him but Joe didn't have to look to know it was his brother. Silently Frank moved to stand by their mother's bed and stared down at the too pale face. He didn't look at Joe as he spoke, his tone subdued and weary. "Any change?"

Joe shook his head unable to voice the word and trusting his brother would see the motion. Frank did if his sigh was any indication. The dark haired young man reached out and gently stroked the side of Laura's face as Joe watched, mesmerized and saddened by the motion. His mother didn't move.

"How's Dad?" he finally asked quietly after another lengthy passage of silence.

Frank finally turned away from the bed and sat down in the chair next to Joe. He stared straight ahead, his eyes shadowed. "Worried about Mom," he glanced at the younger man, "and you."

"I'm fine." The blond boy insisted, even if he knew it was a lie. "You should probably get back before he thinks something's wrong and comes looking for us."

"Something is wrong," Frank stated, his eyes turned back to their mother and he gestured vaguely. "_This_ is all wrong."

Joe swallowed back the lump in his throat. He glanced down at his hands and blinked hard against the burning in his eyes. He tried to clear his throat but his voice was still husky and emotion rough. "Yeah…"

"Hey."

He looked up at his brother.

"Dad really is worried about you, bro. Why don't you go, sit with him a bit and I'll stay with Mom?" Joe was already shaking his head before Frank was even halfway finished. He couldn't leave. He just couldn't. His brother sighed, gave a soft snort and offered a small smile. "I didn't think so, but I had to try, right?" Patting Joe's leg briefly, Frank stood up and leaned over the bed railing. He spoke quietly to his mother for a few moments and then gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back," Joe heard him say and then Frank was a quick squeeze on the shoulder and a closed door behind him. Behind them. And Joe had never felt so alone.

He leaned back towards the bed. "You gotta wake up, Mom," he begged, "You just gotta."

….

Twenty-two year old Frank Hardy closed the door to his mother's hospital room and then leaned back against it. As much as Joe might have wanted him to, Frank couldn't leave. Not when he was so worried about two of the most important people in his life. His mother and his brother.

His father was once again sleeping. This time in a restful sleep that allowed Frank to leave, assured the older man would be fine for a while by himself, and knowing Fenton wanted him to check on everyone else anyway.

'_I'm fine,' the detective had declared, even if he seemed to be having trouble deciding which Frank he was talking to, apparently he was still seeing more than one, 'check on your Mom and brother – make sure they're okay…'_

Joe hadn't been in the accident but Frank understood his father's concern because it was the same he carried himself. Joe was, and had always been, a mommy's boy. Yes, he loved and respected his father but with his mother there was just something else. A something no one could put a name to, or resent them for, but it was forged with the same kind of intensity as anything else connected to Joe was, Frank included. So both older Hardys' understood that until Laura woke up and was okay, Joe wouldn't be.

And he wasn't.

Frank had seen it the moment he went into the hospital room, and known it a lot longer. So he couldn't leave, not just yet. Not with his mother clinging to life and his brother clinging to her, and he wondered, not for the first time, about the irony of it all… It was Mother's Day.

…

Fenton grappled with consciousness once again, wrestling against the darkness and confusion of a concussed mind with a determined and stubborn spirit. And he won –

Just before he leaned over the side of the bed and puked all over the floor.

He did feel better for it afterwards.

Lying back against the bed with his eyes closed and listening to a nurse fussing with a mop and paper towels, he worried about Frank being gone – all three of Frank being gone actually – but then remembered the car accident, Laura, and Joe and felt relief. Frank had gone to them.

Good, because _he_ didn't need help. Not with a call button and whole hospital at his beck and call. Although he kinda wished Frank would hurry back because the longer he was gone, the more Fenton's injured mind tormented him with worst-case scenarios. It was when he decided Laura had left him for the cardiologist, Frank had enlisted in the Ugandan military and Joe sprouted wings, declared himself an independent state, and flew away that Fenton decided he should just go back to sleep.

And as his mind gave into oblivion his last thoughts were about his wife, how much he loved and needed her and whether or not there'd been anyone at the house today to sign for the flowers he'd ordered.

…

For Laura it was as if she was swimming in murk, weighed down by a heaviness just beneath a surface of light; she felt like she'd been there for a very long time, wrapped in memories of her boys. Fenton. Frank. Joe…her world.

Slowly she ascended towards the brightness and the closer she got the more she became aware. A steady beeping. Soft sheets. Muted pain. Someone close by. And then she heard soft sounds of distress, an anguished _'Don't leave me_' and knew who it was. _Joe_.

Her baby was hurting…for her.

…

"Mom," Joe sobbed as he pressed his face against his mother's side and finally gave in to desperation. "Please…_please_ wake up." He held her limp hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. He whispered, soft and grief-stricken. "_Don't leave me…_"

And felt her squeeze back...

_And just like that, everything was okay again._

For her boys.

The End


End file.
